My wife came home late last night and scurried in from the garage quickly in a panic, stating, I dont know what it is, but theres something living in the garage!. My first instinct was to think of the pilot episode of ALF. However, it was doubtful a cat-eating alien had landed in there, so, unsettled, staring at her and the now firmly shut door leading into the garage from the kitchen, I tried to keep my cool, as good things never come out of two people panicking in a situation. I asked, Is it something of substantial mass or is it more in the bug family?. She replied, I dont know! But youre the man. Men deal with these kinds of things!. Well, she was right. I am the man. However, growing up in my house, I distinctly remember when it came to pest control, me, my sister, and my father would be whimpering, cowering in fear on a couch while my mother, the fearless brazen Terminator, took her bedroom slipper of death to any creature that dared to invade our residence. Now 38 years old, maybe Ive changed, I thought. So, owning up to my responsibilities as the man of the household, I took my flashlight in hand, gripped the doorknob, and was ready to explore...the unknown. Before turning the knob, it sounded quiet, so I figured I could slip in quietly off towards the left where the water softener was and make my way around the perimeter. This was a good plan. I turned the knob, opened the door a crack, AND THE PLAN WENT TO HELL IMMEDIATELY AS THIS AGENT FROM SATAN LEAPT AT ME, AT LEAST SIX FEET IN THE AIR, OVER MY HEAD INTO THE KITCHEN. It was a locust the size of a fist! I shrieked like a little girl running madly into the living room for cover, in turn, causing my wife to shriek louder, and with each random bouncing spring of this thing, we shrieked together. As our hearts were racing, I took a moment to calmly reflect on the answer to my earlier question. No, no, at 38, I am still the same coward. My wife continued screaming, GET IT OUT OF HERE! to which I said, THERE IS NO GAME PLAN FOR SOMETHING THAT LARGE WHICH CAN LITERALLY LEAP 6 FEET EACH TIME YOU GO ANYWHERE NEAR IT!. It then dawned on us, Hey, where are the cats?. Our loyal, faithful companions apparently shot upstairs quickly amid all the commotion and as expected, were too lazy to be natural predators, tapping into their instincts to leave us for dead, instead. I told Marissa that I had an idea. I raced over to the laptop and I researched online to see how long the locust lifespan is and I informed her that I think we will just have to coexist with it until it dies in about four months. This did not sit well with her, nor the locust, as seemingly in protest it sprang another 6 feet in the air to land on top of my jacket on the dining room chair, causing another shower of screams. I simply could not believe how large this thing was and its eyes were clearly looking at both of us. I told it, Look, I dont want to kill you.. At that point, I could almost hear it mocking me, KILL ME? HA! YOU CANT EVEN GET WITHIN TWO FEET OF ME WITHOUT SCREAMING LIKE A GIRL!. It was right. No matter. I continued the narration, Im going to slip over to the patio door, now. And when I slide it open, you can go free!. Like a military operation, I strafed flatly against the walls over to the sliding doors, unlatched it, and slowly moved it open on its hinge. That very instant it took the cue and shot straight through the opening to the outside! My wife sealed the door shut and we hugged with sighs of relief. I told her that we look ridiculous, as if we just survived a nuclear holocaust. Now with a clearer head, I regret missing the pun, a nuclear whole-locust. Clearly, I was rattled.
Posted on: Thu, 10 Apr 2014 21:50:13 +0000
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